


four times Bucky nearly confessed to Steve - and the one time he finally did

by nihlus



Category: Captain America, Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Childhood, M/M, but that's my goal so there, potentially feels-inducing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihlus/pseuds/nihlus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout their childhood, Bucky's had loads of opportunities to tell Steve that he loves him. The words however, take a while for him to say, and he misses his chances four times - until the last one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	four times Bucky nearly confessed to Steve - and the one time he finally did

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sawuhs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawuhs/gifts).



> In order for this to make sense chronologically, I've taken a /lot/ of liberty regarding what Bucky’s and Steve's life was like when they were younger. For the purposes of this story, it is assumed that Steve joined the orphanage when he was 8 after his mother passed away, and left it when he was 18. From the time he's 18 till he enlists in the Army, he's been living with Bucky. 
> 
> Many thanks to my awesome beta Sawuhs who has to deal with my lousy tenses lol. Thanksssss.

** One: 13 **

"Miss Harper," he tugs lightly on the sleeve of his favourite cook at the orphanage as she stirs the pot of slightly watery stew, "what's the meaning of love?" Pausing for a moment, she turns to him and smiles. Taking the pot off the stove, she crouches down to his height and wipes the smudge of dirt on his face with her thumb. He loves it whenever Miss Harper talks to him - a vague reminder of what his own mother was like. Beautiful blonde hair, but with brown eyes instead of his mother's own muted blue ones.

"Well Steve, different people see love differently," she starts, pulling up two chairs for them to sit on while they talked, "and there are different kinds of love." He looks at her, slightly confused, prompting Harper to carry on.

"For example, the love that I have for you," she taps him lightly on the nose, getting him to giggle, "is a maternal one. That means I love you, and the other children here, the way a mother would. I see all of you as my children, and it's my responsibility to make sure all of you are alright."

"Even Bucky?"

"Even Bucky, mischievous, scheming, dancing little monkey that he is," she laughs and kisses Steve on the forehead, the way his own mother used to.

Steve climbs down from the chair, crosses his arms across his chest for a bit and thinks. "So I can love more than one person, and I can love people differently apart from the icky romantic kissing?"

Harper laughs, and nudges him out of the kitchen. "Yes, little man, and if you don't stop helping Bucky steal cookies from the cookie jar, I am going to kiss you." She turns around to catch a glimpse of Bucky running out the back door of the kitchen, cookies in hand, with Steve nowhere in sight when she turns back.

As he sits on the steps, Bucky waits for his younger accomplice who runs out of the front door, sitting next to him. Splitting the stolen cookies evenly, they bump two cookies together as a toast to their success and proceed to eat. Steve steals side glances of Bucky, his mouth full of oatmeal and raisins while they munch. "I love you, Bucky."  
Bucky is silent for a moment and stops chewing for a few moments, before he continues to chew slowly. Swallowing, he reaches over and bops Steve lightly on the head with his fist. "I know, dummy."

"Do you love me too?"

Bucky looks down at the cookies, and eats another, looking away from Steve. "I t-"

"Dinner! Everyone, come in for dinner!" Bucky takes this opportunity and pushes his remaining cookies into Steve's arms, running into the house.

"Miss Harper! Steve's still eating the cookies!"

\---

**Two: 18**

The two of them sit down, with seats close to the window, just how they like it. Every Thursday, the two of them would go for their drawing class. Truth be told, Bucky isn’t that big a fan of drawing. He is, quite frankly, horrible at it. Proportions aren’t something he seems to understand, and transferring what he sees in his head onto paper is a lot more difficult than he’d thought. He didn't participate in the class really – he just stays near the back and waits for Steve to finish. The class is just something for him to kill a little time, and coincidentally spend some time with Steve.

In the last 5 years at the orphanage, the two of them had become brothers. They share the same room now, with Bucky sleeping in the bottom bunk ever since he saw how much Steve wanted to sleep in the top (previously his) bunk. He watches Steve sketch something in his book. He isn't entirely sure what it is, since Steve's always been really secretive regarding his little sketchbook. He’d tried once, to look at it, resulting in Steve’s face going slightly red and snapping it shut straightaway. _It's been so long, and he's still shy to show his drawings. Crazy kid._

He looks out the window, watching the citizens of Brooklyn stroll past. Resting his head on his arms, Bucky leans against the windowsill, and slowly dozes off as the warm sun lulls him to sleep. As he sleeps, he becomes oblivious to the fact that Steve has now adjusted his chair to face him, his eyes darting from Bucky to book as his pencil moves furiously. An hour later, he is finished, and shows his progress to his instructor who can only smile and give Steve a thumbs-up. Flipping the sketchbook to the next page, Steve smirks to himself as he lifts his chair and drops it noisily before sliding into his seat, rousing a dazed Bucky from his nap. Steve thanks his instructor and moves to the back of the class where Bucky's rubbing his eyes and yawning slightly. "Ready to go, you sleepy pig?"

Bucky snorts, and leads the way out of the classroom. "You're one to talk." As the two of them walk back to the orphanage slowly, Steve waits for a few moments before he takes Bucky's hand. Bucky starts to pull away, but Steve's grip is surprisingly strong, refusing to let go. Bucky finally stops squirming, and lets Steve hold his hand the way back to the orphanage.

"I love you, Bucky." Bucky says nothing, his grip on Steve's hand unchanging as they end up at the stairs of the orphanage. He can feel Steve's fingers trying to interlock with his, and he isn't entirely sure what to do. He's known Steve's feelings for a while now, and whenever Steve tells him that he loves him, he's always at a loss for words.

He doesn't feel like he should take Steve's hand into his, but he isn't against the idea. Not a bit.

Glancing at Steve, he watches Steve look back at him, a gentle smile on his face. He knows that Steve knows his confession wouldn't get an answer just yet - he's strangely perceptive for a 15-year-old. He knows Steve wouldn't change that statement, and he knows Steve wouldn't give up until he got an answer.

Slowly, he relents. His fingers loosen their grip, and Steve takes the chance and interlocks the fingers. His grip is surprisingly strong for a slightly weaker boy, and it's...strangely warm. Warm, and safe. As though Steve’s the one who’s going to keep him safe, when that had been Bucky's job for the past 5 years. The two of them keep silent for a while more, their hands still interlocked as they walk a distance more.

"Steve," he starts, but stops himself when he can't find the words. They continue walking in silence, all the way to the front steps of the orphanage. Letting themselves in, Steve lets go of Bucky's hand and walks in.

"Miss Harper! We're back!" he leaves the door open for Bucky, turning to grin at him before going up to their room.

Bucky lets his hand fall to his side and sighs, sitting on the end of the steps and looks at the setting sun. His hand feels like a dead weight now, and he wishes he'd said something.

\---

**Three: 20**

He watches as Bucky packs whatever he has into the suitcase Harper's prepared for him. His clothes are all he really has, save the coat hanging on the closed door, and all Steve can do is watch from his top bunk, while Bucky stuffs whatever he has of his childhood into the case. Typically, Steve would help. He was always the gentleman; regardless of what it was, he would try his best to help. For the past year, Steve would help out around the orphanage; tuck the kids in to sleep, wash the clothes, take the children out to the playground to give Miss Harper some free time. Right now however, Steve is insistent on staying in the top bunk, and absolutely refuses to be helpful. Bucky knows, and he wants it too; he just wants to stay.

It’s fairly obvious that Steve is upset, and he knows Steve was talking to Harper earlier, before he came into the room, a slight frown on his face as he closed the door. Downstairs, Bucky heard Harper delegate Steve's chores to the other children, while Steve climbed into the top bunk. They avoid each other's gaze while Bucky packs, the only sound in the room being Bucky's messy folding of his clothes and arranging into the suitcase. As the last shirt is placed into the relatively empty suitcase, he sighs and turns to look at Steve, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

"You alright there?" Steve shrugs, and looks at his feet. Bucky sits on the suitcase, and looks at his oldest friend. "Don't look like that, it's not as though I'm never coming back to see you." Steve doesn't respond, and merely shrugs again. Bucky gets up and climbs up the ladder, forcing Steve to move aside while Bucky sits next to him. "I'll do my best to get a place that's close to here, or close to your drawing class. You can come over," he nudges Steve's arm with his elbow, "and see me anytime you want."

"I know." He responds, still not maintaining eye contact with Bucky. His hand is balled into a fist next to Bucky's, and the two of them keep silent as they look around their childhood room. For 8 years, this was their room. Now that Bucky was moving out of it, it wasn't really the same room anymore. Steve didn't really feel like staying in it, and share the room with another child, a different child, not Bucky.

"I'm going to miss this room," Bucky looks at the small, worn desk in the corner. "Remember when I was teaching you how to punch anyone who bullied you when we were kids? And in the end I fell off the desk and hit my shoulder?"

"Or that time we were playing hide-and-seek, and I hid by standing directly behind you all the time while you searched up and down?" Steve smiles as Bucky talks, pulling the memories out, reminiscing together. The two of them burst out laughing as they recall bits and pieces of their childhood, smiling to themselves as they recall their younger selves.

As their laughter died down, the day was at its end. The usual dinner call from Harper was heard, and Steve starts to make his way down the ladder before Bucky pulls him back, grabbing onto Steve's hand. Taking his hand gently, he looks at Steve's smaller hand and interlocks his fingers with Steve's. Stunned for a moment, Steve just looks at Bucky, before his own fingers curl around Bucky's hand.

"I love you, Bucky." His face is lit, grinning. Bucky grins in return, and opens his mouth to say something, but finds that somehow, he can't. His throat is slightly choked, and he can't find the words. Steve nods, going down the ladder and holding the door open for him, leading the way. Bucky smiles to himself for a moment before he follows, down the steps, into the dinner hall, for his final dinner with his family.

\---

**Four: 26**

"What are you even **doing** here?" Bucky grabs at the enhanced Steve and shoves him against the wall. He can't believe this. He'd tried so hard to convince Steve to stop trying for the recruitment efforts, citing his reasons time and again. And what does he do? Land himself the position of Stark and Erskine's lab rat. "You didn't even know what kind of serum that was, you could have **died** , Steve, you could have damn well **died** because you wanted to make a difference!"

Steve slaps away Bucky's hands, and Bucky's first thought is how he'd never seen Steve this angry before. "Bucky, I'm not the same 6 year old Brooklyn kid who just lost his Mom. I'm not the same kid who needs constant attention because he's weak. I'm an adult, and I can make the choices you can. _This_ ," he gestures to his enhanced body as he glares at his oldest friend, "is the only reason I'm still alive. Without it, I'd probably be long dead, and this is going to help me make the difference in this war."

"As their **mascot**?" Bucky loses all words as he sits on a crate while Steve, while Captain America, leans against the wall and folds his arms across his chest. "Steve, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you can't make a difference." He looks at Steve, his heart starting to have a dull ache as he talks.

"You're in the front lines, you're a damn _icon_ , your face is on the flyer of every single war effort there is, and people are going to remember your face for decades to come," he mumbles, his legs becoming twitchy, his heart beating faster than he'd like. "But slowly, surely, they're going to forget, bit by bit. I don't want to have to face the harsh reality that someday, one day, if you continue doing this, I might have to wake up and realise that everyone's forgotten you, and I'm the only one who remembers. I don't want to face the facts that someday, I might have to get the news that you're not going to be home, no matter how long I wait."

Steve sighs softly. "You realise you're doing the same thing to me. Running off into the war effort, going somewhere you knew I couldn't follow because of my physical condition. It isn't that I don't understand where you're coming from - fighting to keep the people you care about at home, safe, with no worries. I get that, you know I've always understood that, and that I'd always appreciate it." He sits next to Bucky, sharing the crate. "But to have to be at home, helpless while you fight out here, and to simply wait and hope I don't have to receive bad news about you...it'd kill me."

Bucky shrugs. "It's the only way I knew at the time to keep you safe, the only way that I knew, for sure, that I could come home, and know that you would be there." He smiles sadly at Steve and bops him lightly on the head. "You ruined my plan, dummy."

Steve chuckles, "That's what you get when you don't share cookie raid plans with me." He smiles gently, and rests his hand on top of Bucky's. "I'm here. This isn't changing. Now that I'm here with you, I'm just going to work as hard as I can, to change the chances that we'd never see each other again." Shouts are heard for the both of them; they're about to move out, to start their strike on the HYDRA base. "We have to leave. The team isn't good with patience." Standing, Steve holds out his hand, which Bucky grabs.

Pulling Bucky towards him, Steve takes his hand and interlocks their fingers. "I love you, Bucky." Taking a step closer, he leans towards Bucky, a chaste kiss on his lips before he pulls away, smiling, their fingers slowly parting before he runs to find Dum Dum.

Bucky stands, stunned, in the tent, his fingers curling before he squats down, his face burning hot. He feels a tear escape him, rolling down his face as he sighs and punches himself. "You're pathetic, James. Still can't say that you love him, after so long." Straightening himself up, he walks towards the waiting team, his sniper rifle in hand.

_When we come back, I'm taking his hand, and I'm telling him._

\---

**Five: MISSING IN ACTION**

_To Steve;_  
 _If you're reading this, it probably means I'm not around anymore. I'm sorry._  
 _There’s no other easy to way to put it, but I’m sorry._  
 _I kept this in my footlocker - no one else should've read this. The envelope says it's for your eyes only, so if it's been opened before you read this, help me punch the living daylights out of someone. It's our personal, private business._

_I know it's a little too late, but,_  
 _I love you, Steve._

_I'm sorry I didn't have the guts to say this to you earlier, and to say it to you the past 3 times you told me you loved me._  
 _Once when you were 10. Once when you were 15. Once when you were 17. Don't think I forgot those times, Steve, because they mean absolutely everything to me. I've spent nights up in bed, wondering if you really knew the power of your words. What those words meant to me. But I was a bit of an asshole, overlooked your feelings and dismissed them because you were young. I wish I hadn't. By the time you were a teen, you had love figured out. Maybe not entirely, sure, but a lot better than me, anyway. I was still clueless, and didn't know that at the time, I did, and now, still, love you. I did eventually figure things out, but still, said nothing._

_I was 13 when you first said that you were in love with me. I should have held your hand and told you, I love you too._  
 _I was 18 when you told me, for the second time, that you were in love with me. I should have held your hand, hugged you, and told you, I love you too._  
 _I was 20 when you told me for the third time, that you were in love with me. I should have held your hand, hugged you, kissed you, and told you, I love you too._  
 _I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I think inside, you already knew; that I was, and am, very much in love with you, and that in reality, I wouldn’t manage too well if you aren’t by my side._

_Even though now I'm not able to be with you, I'm still with you. You just can't see me, that's all. I'm holding your hand, and I'll always be holding your hand._

_I love you, Steven Rogers. I've loved you for a very long time, and you know that in your heart. Don't ever forget that._

_I wish you a happy life, and to forgive me. It's kinda great up here - you're a shoo-in for sure. Join me when you're old, and we’ll talk._

_I love you, Steve._

_Always yours,_  
 _James Barnes_  
 _Your Bucky_

_P.S. Enclosed is a ring. Please take it and remember. If I had the courage back then, before I’d enlisted, I would have given this to you._

Steve tips the ring out of the envelope as it spins on the table, and he feels his eyes getting puffier as he watches it spin faster and faster, before it finally comes to a stop.

In a modern world, without Bucky, with nothing to remember him by but his ring. Putting it on, he can’t help but smile at how well it fits him. Chuckling as he cries, he curls up on the floor of his SHIELD-assigned apartment, his forehead resting on his knees.

Steve is alone. And alone has never felt so cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated! And a Happy New Year's Eve to all! :)


End file.
